Vulnerable
by Kay Elle Hunter
Summary: Two friends sit alone in the Gryffindor Common Room and lose control of their selves and give in to what each has wanted for a long time.


Disclaimer: I own nothing!

**Vulnerable**

_By Kay Elle Hunter_

She felt vulnerable.

Shadows had descended upon two figures that sat quietly on a fluffy couch of red velvet. They sat close but not close enough for touch to be permitted. A nervous smile was playing lightly across the girl's lips and her eyes were avoiding the red-haired boy who sat next to her, staring casually into the dying fire.

There was tension in the air; a tension that had been building for what felt like an eternity, growing stronger and more intense with every breath the other took. They'd never given in to such intensity; they had never so much as considered it. The wall between them was bound to break away at some point if only they followed the signs their hearts screamed.

A movement took place and his hand landed on hers, so lightly and so gentle. The intention had been to sooth her, to will calm to engulf her being and encourage sleep to summon her.

Such an action, so simple and timid caused such warmth to rise within her entire body that she felt as light as a feather. Her heartbeat had quickened dramatically and she found her breathing was coming out irregular and more rigid than it had been previously.

She felt so vulnerable.

His hand ran slowly and softly across the top of her hand, absently drawing random patterns across the smooth skin. The tips of his fingers, so hot against her flesh, tickled lightly and teased her.

Her eyes fluttered closed as he turned her hand over and repeated his actions across the sensitive covering of her palm, her breathing now coming out freely yet still with the intense essence of desire. She moved slightly and took a deep breath to calm herself but it was an attempt that went by unsuccessfully.

His fingers journeyed to interlock with hers but she instead duplicated his actions, very lightly running her fingertips across his palm in affection. Her fingers were barely touching him. A whisper of breath escaped through his lips and he followed her actions, followed the fingers running across his own skin, captivating hers. His fingers came to land on her wrist, continuing the patterns he'd made further up her arm.

"Ron," she whispered through her breathing. She felt control slipping from her own being.

She was so vulnerable.

"Ron," she repeated, his fingers still running timid lines across the skin of her fingers, her hands and her arm.

His fingers disappeared and then they were around her waist, pulling her closer. He rested his head lightly next to hers and locked his fingers with hers, soothing her yet taunting her at the same time.

His other arm rose to place his free hand upon her midriff, sketching more circles upon her with his touch through her clothes; the constant patterns, never the same as the previous, were driving her insane.

How could such timid touches cause one person to feel so alive, so real … so unprotected?

She felt so vulnerable, too vulnerable.

She moved her head to the side and rested her forehead on his, their breathing uniting as one and growing fiercer with each breath. She tickled her nose with hers and drew in a sharp breath.

Another whisper escaped him and she leant closer to his open mouth, tasting the sweet breath he was sharing with her as her lips drew closer to him. How this had come about neither could explain or guess. This was fate they had no control over.

They were both so vulnerable.

Her lips met his and he responded in a breath; another sweet, intense breath that lingered between them, along with their joined hands.

"Hermione," he murmured as she rested her head on his chest, breathing in carefully and regaining the composure of the self she had lost control of.

Three words still couldn't escape her as she took in his scent, discovered how real everything, at this moment, was. Fear had engulfed her, as had such feeling that she knew she had to live with – that she wanted to live with. Yet those three words couldn't escape her.

"_I love you."_

A/N. This fic is dedicated to Mr Wayne Murray Rowe for he and i experienced something like this on the 10th &11th of April 2005. He is my Ron - I'm his Hermione ... sort of...hmm...


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